A Protocol for Making Backlist Volumes Respectable

A guest post by Gemma Coole, Publisher, CoolMain Press

In only two years, CoolMain Press, a micropublisher, has published eighteen superb books, all of them international bestsellers, including six previously published backlist books republished as ebooks. Among the other recognitions are prizes to our authors for literary quality and threats of lawsuits for truth-telling that no one else would risk.

Unfortunately, working with such long-established authors as Andre Jute Andrew McCoy means that many of the attractive volumes from their backlists that we want to republish are not available in any kind of electronic form. We must use optical character recognition to render printed books back to editable texts.

You might say, “But writers like Andre and Andrew, both from the Secker & Warburg stable, were surely superbly edited before their books were published.” Yes, they were. But optical character recognition is only 99% accurate, and that’s at best, with a truly clean, aligned scan of a page set in a font that the particular OCR you’re using just lurfs. I would love to see that fortunate concatenation of circumstances just once in my life! In practice the best and most expensive OCR (Adobe’s Acrobat) is 90% accurate. Think about it. OCR gets 10 or more out of every hundred characters and punctuation marks wrong, and of course it also gets any speck of stray ink or dirt on the page wrong, classifying it as a spurious character or, worse, an anomaly to be individually attended to.

The right way to proceed with the mess that OCR leaves one, is first to reduce the uncertainties to the maximum extent by enthusiastic use of the spellchecker built into all good word processors. Then reduce all consecutive multiple spaces to a single space. That’s the easy part but it can waste an inordinate amount of time to overlook it.

What’s left is then the most intransigent of the OCR errors, including some that are very difficult to spot unless each page is extremely carefully examined at good magnification.  Particular examples that my own eye just glides over — until the book is published, when they become knives in my heart — are reversed quotation marks, ticks for quotation marks instead of proper curliques, stops and commas  switched around at random, exclamation points turned into the digit 1, and hyphens exchanged for en and em rules. All these things matter.

After the spellcheck, it usually makes sense to find all hyphens and inspect each individually to ascertain which should remain, which are superfluous hyphens picked up by the OCR from the line-ends of the previous setting and turned “hard” when no hyphen is required, and which should be em and en rules to show broken thoughts or subsidiary material.

Next we need, for each book individually, to work out a set of algorithms which define the order in which quotation marks will be regularized. By this I mean that quotation marks should have all occurrences of straight ticks replaced by curliques, that they should all point in the right direction, and that, wherever possible, British single quotation marks should be exchanged for American double quotation marks.

This raises another question, apostrophes. In a solid pre-edited book from a classically-educated author and a leading literary publisher, one doesn’t need to look for spelling errors, grammatical solecisms, and the infuriating carelessness with apostrophes (tomato’s — aaargh!) one finds in the “books” that some conglomerates and too many indies put out. But correctly applied apostrophes can trip you up thousands of times in a single novel if you’re converting from single quotation marks to double.

So the algorithm you work out must in the first instance change all the opening quotes for each sentence which is dialogue, and observation of the text you’re working with will quickly show that there are two forms to search for, paragraph-quotation to open paragraphs and space-quotation after intervening description, in both cases right-facing curliques. Similarly, at the end of any unit of dialogue, there will be a stop, a comma, an exclamation, a question mark, or a rule, followed by left-facing curliques. You will now be left with some self-standing quotation marks which can be found as space-quotation and individually attended to. Anything else is an apostrophe or an error requiring editorial judgement.

Next, attend to the apostophes. Search for them one by one from the beginning of the volume and when you find an error, correct it for the entire volume by search and replace, then find the next error, until no more errors are found. At this point, you have reduced the errors in the OCR to the maximum extent possible by semi-automated means.

You still have a bit of a mess but at least the editor will not waste hours and days on what you can do with a computer in a few hours or even minutes if you’re organized or lucky.

Of course, at CoolMain, a tiny publisher, we would never have been able to publish so many hefty books in such a small period of time if it were not for the volunteer editors — currently Diane, Lisa, Lynne, and Sarah, with at least a dozen more who’ve helped on one or more books — working for the love of literature in Andre’s Editorial Menagerie on Goodreads.

I understand why the big publishers hate backlist books. It’s the cost of OCR. That makes me all the more proud of what CoolMain has achieved with very limited financial resources and the goodwill of the outstanding volunteers.

If you see a remaining error in a CoolMain book, please write to us: info at coolmainpress with the commercial extension. We will make the correction at the next edition.

***
Gemma Coole was a merchant banker until she realized her life’s ambition to become a publisher when she founded CoolMain Press with Bill Tremain. Among CoolMain’s bestselling, prizewinning authors  are Andre Jute, Dakota Franklin and Andrew McCoy.

Shakshuka

A guest recipe from Coral Moore

I don’t like soup. I know, I’m a little weird that way. My husband is constantly trying to find recipes for soups that I’ll actually eat, and we’ve happened on some real gems in the process. This is one of my favorites.

Shakshuka is a North African dish of eggs poached in a spicy tomato sauce. This recipe was found on Smitten Kitchen. I’ve seen roughly the same recipe in a few places so I think it’s a fairly authentic. The rich, spicy sauce is really the star of this dish. You’ll be mopping it up with every piece of bread you can find long after the eggs are gone. Very hearty and satisfying!

Shakshuka

• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 3 jalapeños, stemmed, seeded, and finely chopped
• 1 yellow onion, chopped
• 4 cloves garlic, crushed then sliced
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1 tablespoon paprika
• 1 28-ounce can whole peeled tomatoes, undrained
• Kosher salt, to taste
• 6 eggs
• 1/2 cup feta cheese, crumbled
• 1 tablespoon chopped flat-leaf parsley
• Warm pitas, for serving

Heat oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat. Add chiles and onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and golden brown, about 6 minutes. Add garlic, cumin, and paprika, and cook, stirring frequently, until garlic is soft, about 2 more minutes.

Put tomatoes and their liquid into a medium bowl and crush with your hands. Add crushed tomatoes and their liquid to skillet along with 1/2 cup water, reduce heat to medium, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until thickened slightly, about 15 minutes. Season sauce with salt.

Crack eggs over sauce so that eggs are evenly distributed across sauce’s surface. Cover skillet and cook until yolks are just set, about 5 minutes. Using a spoon, baste the whites of the eggs with tomato mixture, being careful not to disturb the yolk. Sprinkle with feta and parsley and serve with pitas, for dipping.

The recipe is very flexible. Raise or lower the amount of peppers depending on your taste. Three gives the dish a nice zest but doesn’t burn. We’ve tried a few different varieties of peppers, even using canned once when we didn’t have any fresh. You can also change the cheese if you don’t like or don’t have feta on hand. We once used a sharp provolone and it came out great. I encourage you to experiment and find your own favorite variation!

Serves 4 to 6

 ***

Coral Moore writes speculative fiction with a dark edge. Connect with her via her website, Goodreads, or Twitter.

Fear is the Best Diet

 

A guest post by André Jute

In the last two years I’ve twice had heart surgery. The first time I was cycling again on the third day but the second time I nearly died from a stupid, minor, unforeseen complication to do with an allergy to iodine which — you won’t believe this — doesn’t kick in until the second time you have the stuff injected into your body to act as a contrast in keyhole surgery to enable surgeons to see what they’re doing inside your body. Since then I’ve lost a stone in weight without even trying: I think twice before putting anything in my mouth, and on second thoughts put it down.

But what, you may ask, has this to do with my new book, which isn’t a diet book (I don’t write diet books — or at least I haven’t yet). I have been writing the series COLD WAR, HOT PASSIONS for a quarter century, and just now the first volume, DREAMS, is being published. There are seven further volumes to follow: a series to suck you into the lives of the ten Russian and American families whose story this is, as it it all our stories.

As a young man I partook of lethal blood sports like auto and offshore boat racing, racing sailing yachts across the Antarctic Ocean and around Cape Horn, and I was a professional polo player during one of my political exiles in South America — and my politics were of the sort that causes governments to send assassins after you. Even in an office job, in advertising, I lived in such a pressure cooker that all my partners were dead of various stress-related diseases before they turned 33. Hell, it was natural for me to think of myself as lucky, a perpetual survivor, pretty near indestructible.

So, when I wrote about how the young idealists of the Bolshevik Revolution turned into the creators of one of the the most lethal tyrannies the world has ever seen, the Soviet Union whose eras are named for their Great Terrors, I often felt sorry for them, and that somehow gave me a better understanding of them.

Back in the Little Perestroika, during the Brezhnev years, I toured the Soviet Union lecturing on the applications of market-led statistics, then a new idea to Russians. You could still cut the fear with a butter knife; a decade later all my star students had been disgraced and a few shot.

In the series of eight books which make up COLD WAR, HOT PASSIONS we’ll see how people lived, and loved, and raised families even through this constant haze of fear. It is one of the most impressive things about the twentieth century, that the human side of people, of families, survived the social engineering of the best organized and most brutal dictators the world has ever seen.

We’ll also see the flip side of the coin, how American families made something positive out of the constant fear which resulted from Soviet paranoia and empire-building during the almost half-century that we call the Cold War.

If you read DREAMS, don’t let the horrendous murders of Lenin and Stalin overwhelm you: notice that even monsters have a human side. It’s just another of the weird and wonderful revelations in this series of novels, together longer than War and Peace, which are all historically true. I especially enjoyed writing of the love of the schoolgirl Nadeshda Alleluyeva for Koba, which was Stalin’s name before he became a monster.

Ah, yes, fear. It turns out, on rereading DREAMS, that I knew about fear all along. See if you agree.

***

 

André Jute is a distinguished writer of novels and of non-fiction on the arts, engineering and cooking. The New York Times described him as “wild but exciting”. He is probably the most influential teacher of creative writing in the world through his WRITING A THRILLER, the choice of most professionals, which over many editions refocussed the thriller from plot to character. There are about 300 editions of his books in more than a dozen languages. He is married, has one child, and lives on a salmon river in Ireland. André is on Facebook and Twitter, and you can join him for conversation at the discussion group ROBUST. His blog is Kissing the Blarney, his publisher is Coolmain Press, and there is more information on his personal website. His current e-books are available at Amazon. His other current project, just starting, is HENTY’S FIST 1: GAUNTLET RUN, a collaboration with Dakota Franklin and Andrew McCoy, which will be free to read on Wattpad.

Welcome, Suzzana C. Ryan

Earlier this month, my friend and colleague JL Oiler visited to talk about her newest release Glimpses of Midnight, vol 1. Today, her colleague (and my new friend) Suzzana C. Ryan talks about her new book, the continuation of the series, Glimpses of Midnight, vol 2.

Glimpses of Midnight: Decadence 

By Suzzana C Ryan Cyrus 

Bellefleur ruled the underworld but couldn’t rule his mate, Alkmene, a gorgeous succubus. The feared ancient vampire could crush a legion of humans but found it impossible to tame one redheaded beauty. Their tumultuous union periodically resulted in the succubus fleeing the underworld in an attempt to anger him. She’d do what she did best and that was ravish human men with her temptuous body. Her prowess in bed was her curse. It was at times like these Cyrus followed her into the world above.

This time, however, when she ran from Cyrus, she found a portal in time, traveling to the year nineteen-fifty-seven, looking to hide. But Cyrus could sniff out an opening in the time line.

Alkmene found herself a dark, handsome lover, a fallen archangel, who was ripe for the plucking. But she never figured on his lovely human conquest falling into the mix. Emmy Harris was an up and coming Hollywood starlet and the biggest thing to hit tinsel town in ages. Now Emmy became a pawn in the wicked games Cyrus and Alkmene played.

In a world called South Hedonism, all vices, indulgence, decadence, obsession and perversion flourish. All creatures foul, evil and corrupt exist in the evil inner cities. They come and go between both worlds and love to play above. But they always return. Hell has its advantages. 

Here’s book two of Glimpses of Midnight. Here you’ll meet Cyrus Bellefleur, the dark under lord. I love him, evil with a very twisted sense of humor and a mate that tries his patience on a daily basis. She’s a beautiful red headed succubus named Alkmene.

Definition Succubus: a female demon or supernatural being appearing in dreams, who takes the form of a human woman in order to seduce men, usually through sexual intercourse.

She was Cyrus’s first big mistake. Silly vampire, he expected such a creature to be faithful. Let’s note his second mistake, falling in love with the spitfire and third, Carina, his half-breed daughter. And might I add, a quite prolific creature who disobeys her father, well a hell of a lot more than your mother.

Okay we’ve got the evil family. What’s next on the agenda, a slew of creatures, time travel, thousands of cities existing in the darkness, Labyrinths, erotic sexual encounters and a dose of evil. Then we have some inhabitants, going top side, creating unrest, havoc and death in the human world. Did I mention, Cyrus encourages and condones such behavior. Awe its hell, baby, and well its fun. Did I say that.

As one of the writers involved in this wonderful collaboration, I get too engrossed in my characters and in the world that JL Oiler and I have created. Did I tell you I have an obsessive personality, enjoy wicked evil things, love erotic poetry, ghouls, vampires, witches, werewolves and they live in my head, yeah, on a daily basis. Is this redundant? LOL, not to worry, last time I looked things that go bump in the night don’t exist. Hm, gotta raise an eyebrow here, in my brain they do exist.

You must read Glimpses of Midnight, Volume One, here you will encounter Carina, the half-breed orgasm-seeking daughter. Really, she’s running creatures ragged, in pursuit of the perfect orgasm. You meet, the two humans who venture into hell and pay the price. You’ll enjoy the wickedness of JL Oiler has created and her talent of getting three, count them three in one bed. She a master at ménage, and has taught me a thing or two. Oh, sorry I get lost a lot, smiles.

Well, fellow humans, time to wrap it up, got some serious writing to do. Look for Glimpses of Midnight, Volume Three, Obsession and then Four Perversion. See those heading, we won’t let you down, I promise.

Kisses and hugs…
- Suzzana C Ryan
http://www.suzzanacryanromanceromanceauthor.blogspot.com

And They Lived Horribly Ever After

A Guest Post by Coral Moore

You probably don’t know me. My name is Coral and I’m a speculative fiction writer. At first glance, my fantastical fiction and Anne Holly’s contemporary romance don’t seem to have much in common. You might even wonder what I’m doing here, on a very romance-y blog. The answer is pretty simple—I love romantic storylines. I do have a couple of problems with the way romance is expected to be these days, though. I don’t subscribe to the theory that a story has to fit into a mold to be fulfilling, which is why I’ve hesitated to label my books that way. After a few late-night conversations with Anne regarding the formulaic nature of much of today’s commercial fiction, I know it’s a matter she has some interest in as well, so I decided to write a little something about romances that don’t follow the “type” and why they are still worthwhile.

I’m going to back way up for a moment and start with a classic, just to offer a bit of foundation for my claim. Romeo and Juliet is not a romance by today’s standards. Though the plot is driven by the central relationship, there is no happy ending. I would argue that since the budding relationship reaches a logical conclusion—even though the resolution is a tragic one—the story should still be considered a romance. The play is entirely about their love and how it shapes the world around them. It’s a love story, in the purest sense, yet it would never be labeled a romance now.

Why is the romance genre the only one so handicapped by the reliance on happy endings? If a science fiction story has a tragic ending, no one suggests that it belongs in a different genre. No one would have told Bradbury, “We only allow happy endings on alien planets here, move along now,” and thank goodness because the darkness of his stories is part of what makes them so good. Don’t get me wrong, I love a happy ending. I just don’t think it should be required for the genre because knowing how the story is going to end diffuses some of the tension for me. The most poignant love stories teeter at the edge of loss, and without the chance that things won’t work out, that potential for tragedy is gone.

My favorite stories are the darkest ones. I’ve always preferred them, probably because so much of my early reading was horror. If I can’t believe something terrible might happen as a result of the conflict, there isn’t much point to reading the story in my opinion. Let’s use Harry Potter as an example (Spoiler Alert: Though I can’t imagine there’s anyone who doesn’t know the basic plot of the stories out there). Until more than halfway through the series there really isn’t much fear about the consequences. Though the situation is purported to be dire, there’s no immediate sense that something awful could happen. Our heroes will just keep beating the bad guys, skipping along merrily at the end. Cedric’s death changes everything. Once we know that someone important could die as a result of what’s going on, the tone of the stories turns more urgent.

Though my stories are heavily romantic, I don’t like to label them as romances because I want there to be doubt and darkness at the base of them. When my heroine walks away from the hero, I want you to believe she might not come back. When the hero tells the heroine that she should leave or something awful might happen, I want you to believe the terrible is possible. That just can’t happen while writing under the strictures of modern-day romance, so what’s an author to do?

My newest release is Elements of Rebellion. I’ve waffled back and forth on how to label this story, basically since I finished writing it. I settled on Dark Fantasy Romance, but I’m still not sure if that’s truly where it belongs. Part of me still clings to the idea that the tension is somehow less if the reader goes into it knowing there is a happy ending.I’m sure there are dissenting opinions on this subject, and I welcome your attempts to convince me that every romance should end happily in the comments. If you’d like to have a more prolonged discussion, I invite you to come find me on Twitter, Goodreads or my blog. I might even give you a copy of my not-romance for your trouble.

~*~

Elements of Rebellion

Coral Moore

After spending most of her life an unwilling captive in a brothel, Sindari is sold to Lord Devin, a man with a reputation for unspeakable cruelty. In the arms of this man who must pretend he cares nothing for her, Sindari finds compassion, making the journey through her barren homeland all the more perilous. Along the way she discovers she can channel elemental forces that compliment Devin’s ability to manipulate fire.

Harnessing this power, she battles the Dominion, an unrelenting foe that has broken the spirit of the Eldari people through twenty years of savagery. Trapped by the brutal empire that has enslaved millions, Sindari and Devin fight against hopeless odds.

Genre: Fantasy
Length: 85,000
Warnings: Graphic Violence and Sexual Situations
Written for NaNoWriMo 2010.

Going Bump in the Night

A Guest Post by Siobhan Kinkade

Creepy crawly critters…

Dark, shadowy corners…

A chilly wind whistling through the trees…

Let’s face it, everyone wants a good scare. It’s the adrenaline rush, the increase I endorphins when your heart starts pumping in overtime. That tingle of hesitation will draw you in and hold you hostage every single time.

It’s why us romantics are so drawn to a sexy alpha-male shapeshifter or a brooding bloodsucker. It’s why the taboo and untouchable becomes the desired. Of course, when we start talking about the anti-hero type of heroes, the phrase “going bump in the night” takes on a whole new meaning. The monsters become the love interests, and perspectives change. I don’t know about you, but I like the danger. The possibility of being devoured (and not in the happy fun way) by the scary creature really gets my blood pumping.

I happen to be partial to vampires. Ones like Christian, for example… He’s about as unconventional as a hero can get – piercings…tattoos…blue mohawk… VAMPIRE.

And I want one. If I had to pick a vampire to go bump in the night with, it would be him, hands down. Want to know why? Read more…

Lana Roberts has come to Boston searching for her twin sister, Sarah. The last place Sarah was seen is an underground club called The Mausoleum. Not realizing what she has gotten herself into, Lana enters, only to find herself in the company of a seductively frightening vampire named Christian Sterling – the only creature in the place that wants to help her. But there’s one problem.

Lana is still human. 

If she goes back into The Mausoleum, she’ll be killed, but Christian has a plan…if he can only convince her to go along with it. Can a pair of Halloween costumes, the sexy stranger she has found herself falling for, and a little bit of unorthodox behavior save the day? And just how long can Lana keep telling herself she doesn’t want him?

 

Excerpt from Blood Doll:

“How long would it take?” Lana asked after several moments of silence. She shook her head and her eyes seemed to clear. Then she looked up at him, and her cheeks turned a warm, tempting pink color.

“If timed carefully, just a few hours.”

“What happens if it isn’t timed right?”

“You take in too much and turn.” He bit into the burger again, and her face crumpled in confusion.

“I thought vampires couldn’t eat human food,” she said, and glanced down at her own plate. Her stomach growled.

“Vampirism isn’t like you think, Lana.” He placed the burger back on the plate and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Like I said, we eat and drink, we breathe, we have heartbeats. We also crave human blood and will wither and die without it.”

“That’s kind of gross,” she replied, startling a laugh out of him. However, the laugh quickly died as he spotted two familiar faces peering through the grimy door at him. He looked straight at her, reaching across the table to take her hand.

“Are you planning to eat?” he asked. She looked down at the plate, then back up at him.

“Why?”

“Because I think we’re about to have company. We need to make a quick exit.” She grabbed two fries from the plate and shoved them in her mouth whole, which puffed her cheeks out like a squirrel. Christian smirked and patted her hand before pulling a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and throwing it on the table. “Chew fast, sweetheart,” he said, rising from the booth. She grabbed the burger, took a large bite, then grabbed her straw and stuffed her mouth further with soda. Shaking his head in amusement, he took her hand and led her to the side door just as the front door opened.

The pair watching him paused, then whispered something to each other that was lost in the din of the restaurant. Christian tugged her out the door and started down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. Beside him, Lana chewed the mouthful of food quickly, fighting to swallow it without choking. Any other time he’d have laughed at her, but he heard the door of the diner open and the pair following them call his name.

“Chew faster,” he urged, picking up his pace. Lana was nearly running when she swallowed the final time and gave a weak, gagging cough.

“What’s going on?” she choked out.

“We’re being followed.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.” He swept her into his arms and began to run. Nine blocks later, Christian ducked into an alley and dropped her to her feet. “Do you trust me, Lana?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and perfectly round, and nodded. “Then just go with me on this, okay?” She nodded again. He peered around the alley wall, listening as the footsteps moved in. “They’re coming,” he said, turning and walking her back into the shadows. He pushed her back against the wall and took her face in his hands. “Just go with it,” he said, and kissed her.

This was no tentative first kiss. Christian pressed his full body against her, pinning her to the wall as he threaded his fingers and laid siege to her mouth. 

Links:

© www.sugarnspicepress.com © www.amazon.com ©
© www.allromanceebooks.com © www.barnesandnoble.com ©
© www.bookstrand.com © www.fictionwise.com ©

~+~+~+~

Where to find Siobhan:

http://siobhankinkade.wordpress.com
http://www.facebook.com/AuthorSiobhanKinkade
http://www.twitter.com/siobhankinkade

A Guest Promo from Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

From the top of the hill crowning our backyard, I looked out over an amazing vista.  Somehow the neighborhood seemed different from that view but best of all I had a panorama of sky.  I watched the clouds puff across the blue sky.  I watched the birds wheeling high and fast.  And I saw the airplanes headed for the local airport.  Flight captivated my attention and I wished I too could soar into the heavens.

My desire is part of the inspiration behind my new release from Rebel Ink Press, Guy’s Angel.  In my second full length historical romance, my heroine, Lorraine Ryan longs to fly.  The story is set in 1925.

Guy’s Angel – Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy 

When a young woman really believes the sky is the limit, amazing things can happen…


Lorraine Ryan wants to fly airplanes so she heads for the local airstrip in 1925 to make her dream come true.  Most of the flyboys think she’s cute but a woman’s place is in the home, not the cockpit.   When Guy Richter steps up and offers to teach her to fly, she’s captivated with both Guy and flight.  He nicknames her “Angel” and takes her up into that wild blue yonder.  Before long, they’re deep in love.


Love, however, isn’t always enough……


Guy, a former World War I flying ace, is haunted by his past. His demons include his war service, the death of his only brother in an accident the previous year, and the Valkyries that he evaded in France who trail him in the hopes that they can complete his destiny.  But his dreams lie with Angel and as they grow closer and closer, he soon realizes that if anyone can save him, it’s his Angel.

Excerpt:

When she got in sight of the airfield, she slowed her fast pace to a casual walk, plastered a lit Camel to her lip, and sauntered toward the hanger, eager and with more anticipation than she ever remembered having at Christmas.

Just outside the single hanger, her old shyness reared up and tried to choke her but she pushed it away, swaggering in the boots to show a confidence she didn’t feel now. When she walked inside, just three fellas were there, the older one who first spoke to her, Guy, and another man.

“Good morning,” she called out, hoping her voice didn’t betray her nerves.  Maybe Guy didn’t remember, she thought, maybe he changed his mind.

“Hi, Angel,” he said, relieving her worries. “Come meet the rest of the gang, the ones here, anyhow.  In case you forgot, I’m Guy, Guy Richter. This here is Pete but we all call him “Pop” because he’s the old man around here and this other goof is Charlie.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Charlie said, standing up to greet her.  “I like the duds, Angel.”

“Thanks, it’s nice to meet you too.”

In short order he introduced to some of the others, a kid too young to have been an ace in the war named Teddy, a fellow named Stan, who Guy called ‘Joe College’, and another man who ducked his head he said was Art. When Art turned on his heel, she noticed he was missing an eye and figured he might have lost it in the Army Air Corps. Two or three other young men hung around, kicking the dirt with their toes and staring at her as an awkward silence descended.

“She can’t fly like that,” the old man they called Pop growled. “She’d need goggles, a jacket, gloves, a leather helmet and she ain’t got any.  Better go home, kiddo.”

She shook her head.  “I ain’t going to scram.  I’m here to fly.”

“Leave off her, old man,” Guy said but he didn’t sound angry despite the harsh words. “She’s all right.  She looks to be close enough to Jimmie’s size she can wear his gear.”

“And I suppose you just happen to have all of it with you?” Pop growled.

“Yeah, I do,” Guy said.  “I brought it with me just for her.”

“And you’ll let the dame wear your own dead brother’s stuff? Jesus Christ on a crutch!”

Angel – because here she sure didn’t want to be just Lorraine – looked from one man to the other, more than a little upset they appeared to argue about her.

“Mind your beeswax, Pop,” Guy said, sounding irate for the first time. “C’mon, Angel, let’s get you ready to fly.”

He beckoned her to follow so she trailed behind him out to a flivver where he lit a smoke before he dug out the flying gear.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to make anybody sore.”

Guy blew out smoke and shook his head.  “It ain’t you, honey, it’s just Pop. He's like a bear sometime, that’s all. Don’t get your knickers in a knot over what he said.”

“Okay, I won’t.  Thanks, Guy.”

“Aw, don’t mention it,” he said as he reached into the car.  “Here, try the jacket and see if it’s close enough to fit.”

The brown leather aviator jacket dwarfed her, much too large but she tugged it into place.

“What do you think?” she asked, pirouetting for him.

“It looks swell,” Guy said. “It’s big but you look better in it than Jimmie ever did.”

She looked down at the jacket. “Did it really belong to your brother?”

“Yeah, it did Angel.”

“What happened to him? Did he die in the war?”

Guy’s face darkened but he shook his head.  “No, we both made through the war but he bought it down at Kansas City, at the motorcycle board track not long before it closed last year.”

Angel remembered reading about a terrible accident, one in which the motorcyclist lost control of his speeding bike and veered off the track into the crowd. He died on impact and so did three of the viewers.  “I’m sorry.”

Guy shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t sweat it.  He’d like a pretty girl to wear his gear. Here, get the helmet on and the goggles so we can fly.”

His casual compliment pleased her but she didn’t say anything about it. She managed to pull the tight fitting leather over her head and put the goggles in place.  Now she felt like a giant insect and as she followed him out to the waiting plane, she figured she must look like one too.  She had one more question, though, and she turned to Guy, lips parted to ask it.

“So you were in the war too?”

He hesitated but just for a moment before he nodded.  “Yeah, I was but it was a long time ago and a long way off.  Come on, Angel baby, if you want to fly, let’s fly.”

Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Lee-Ann-Sontheimer-Murphy/e/B004JPBM6I

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html

http://www.bookstrand.com/lee-ann-sontheimer-murphy

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/lee-ann-sontheimer-murphy?keyword=lee+ann+sontheimer+murphy&store=ebook

A Page In The Life: http://leannsontheimermurphyblogspotwriterauthor.blogspot.com

Rebel Writer: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy: http://leeannsontheimermurphy.blogspot

Seanachie Stories: Tuesday Tales And More: http://seanachiestories-tuesdaytalesandmore.blogspot.com

Overcoming Stereotypes & Fulfilling a Dream

A Guest Post by Donna Del Oro 

I’ll never forget my last English department meeting. Several of us were retiring that June and at the May meeting, our department chair asked us what we planned to do in retirement. The replies ran the gamut from the usual (“I’d like to travel more” and “I’m going to spend more time with my grandchildren”) to the unusual (“I’d like to start a second career” and “I’m going to write a novel and get published”). The last reply was mine and our department chair’s response was to laugh and say, “You’re too old to start a writing career.” Well, I never liked the woman, anyway, so I wasn’t surprised or too offended. This was typical of her. And she had no idea that inside, there lurked a thirty-something, kick-ass redhead who always liked a challenge. At the meeting, a colleague of mine took umbrage, puffed out her chest and said, “Well, why not?”

I wondered about the old stereotypes about retired people. Most media images showed senior citizens rocking on their porches with their grandchildren or volunteering at local libraries and food kitchens. Nothing wrong with any of that, of course, but I’d always had a longing to be more creative and produce a product beyond my weekly lesson plans. The urge to create was strong and I’d often read books and thought, “I could write a story just as good or even better than this one. At least, I wanted to try.

By the time I got home that day, I was asking myself, “Yeah, why the hell not?” We come through this lifetime—from all empirical evidence, anyway—only once. Each day is a gift and should not be wasted. Each and every one of us has some kind of creative urge or talent. I’d been raised to believe that one should never say, “I can’t”, but instead should always approach a seemingly impossibility with, “How can I?” From the day I walked out of my high school for the last time as an educator in 2003, I was asking myself, “How can I?” How can I learn to become a good writer, learn the current cinematic style of writing popular fiction—my perceived route to publication—and how can I get published?

Books on writing fiction, many meetings of the Valleyrose chapter of the RWA, many rejections and many critique sessions later—four years worth—a publisher offered me a contract for my first completed (and many times revised) manuscript. My women’s fiction novel, OPERATION FAMILIA, saw the light of publication into print form and three years later, won an award for Second Prize in the Romantic Comedy category of Latino Books into Movies Award, sponsored by Latino Literacy Now (an organization founded by Edward James Olmos, the actor, writer and producer). The judges were people in the Hollywood film industry. That book was only the beginning. 

So if anyone ever laughs and says, “You can’t,” always think, “Oh yeah, how can I?” or “Why the hell not?” After that, the journey is, well, maybe not easy but certainly possible. Overcoming society’s stereotypes of age, gender, socioeconomic circumstances, birth, race, and education is a challenge but definitely do-able. These stereotypes are a nuisance, irritating background noise, and must be ignored. Turn a deaf ear and listen to your own voice, saying “Why the hell not?” It’s the only voice that matters.

A BODYGUARD OF LIES (released Jan. 13th) has a dual setting, a contemporary one and a WWII/London setting. It's a blend of romance, mystery and WWII espionage. I researched it while in England, Ireland and Germany in 2009. The story involves a Jewish-American FBI analyst, who's recruited by MI-5 to go undercover and investigate a naturalized American grandmother. The elderly woman is suspected by MI-5 of being a notorious Nazi spy never caught by the Allies during the war, who caused the deaths of thousands and is wanted for war crimes. Jake Bernstein runs into a series of unexpected obstacles and complications: This spy knows a secret that could endanger the royal family; the old woman has a beautiful granddaughter who threatens to derail his investigation; a neo-Nazi group in Ireland known as the Celtic Wolves; and a clever, cagey old woman who's not as weak as she looks.

Donna Del Oro spent her childhood in two places, Silicon Valley, CA and the countryside of East Texas, as her father tried several job opportunities. Finally settling in Silicon Valley, she grew up in a bilingual, bicultural world--Spanish on her mother's side and English on her father's. Comfortable in both worlds, she decided upon retiring from teaching to write about her Hispanic side. Four women's fiction books resulted and a series about professional singers, their careers and love lives. Retired and devoting much of her abundant free time to exercise, writing, singing and her grandson, Donna has finally reached a point in life that totally satisfies her. Life is good and she has no complaints, just a lot of gratitude for her many blessings.

Donna's Website

Character Interview: Gawain – of the Vampires

Today, Elise Wyles gives us a chat with her character, Gawain of the Vampires.

What’s your favorite food(s)? (Isn’t limited to humans – if you write paranormal can be anything you want it to be.)

Food? Why I don’t imbibe food of the earth. Frankly its revolting, tasteless, and as appealing going in as out. Now a nice, warm, cup of the sweetest blood? Oh yes, that’s simply divine. Of course, the sweetest is from the veins of my chosen one.

Who was your first boyfriend/girlfriend and how old were you when you met?

My first was Bede of the Woods. I was eight hundred and twenty one years old.

How long have you worked at your current job?

Since I was one hundred and sixty five years old. It was my calling, my life until I met Bede who has become my life.

What’s your greatest pet peeve with your Mother/Father? Why?

Pet peeve with my parents? What in the Stylox…oh yes, I see it’s a human custom isn’t it? Well, there were no issues with my parents growing up. Mother and father have both been kind to me. They took pride in all I did and still do.

If you could meet anyone living or dead who would it be and why?

Bede’s father – I’ve the desire to rip out his throat with my claws and stomp on his beating heart for the treachery and brutality to Bede and her young sister.

Who’s your favorite artist, singer, etc.?

I do so love the songs of Selene – lullabies sung to the young for generations. They’re calming, soothing and fill one with the hope of life.

Name two things about Bede you’d change and tell us why?

Two things…hmmm. Well, firstly I’d change her desire to constantly nag. I swear the woman hasn’t stopped nagging me about going back to Amuliana’s realm since she discovered my minor falsehood weeks past. I always keep my word and having her worrying and fussing is frustrating.

Her pesky habit of helping those who are undeserving of her kindness. She has been talking to the Queens, seems she’s feeling the urge to nest and since she has not grown into her immortality enough to reproduce an offspring of our own – she’s taken in every child with a wing, a fang, a claw…all while using her wiles to keep me distracted.

The Forsaken Series

By Elise Whyles and Ciara Lake

Series Overview:

Among us walk immortal beings – cursed to hide within the shadows they live along side us as they have for centuries. Using, feeding, living off the mortals so reviled for their weakness – yet there are some who will be awakened and immortality will be given.

Now, an ancient evil stirs – rising to threaten not only the Immortal Realms but the mortal world. A cursed vampire General stirs, plotting his revenge on those who have forsaken him…but he’s forgotten about the innocent, who like him have been punished.

There are those who are Forsaken.

It could be anyone among us…

Series Website   
Elise Whyles Facebook   Ciara Lake Facebook

The first book, Forsaken Heart by Elise Whyles is set to release in April 2012. The second book Curse of a Dargon’s Claim  by Ciara Lake will release shortly after

Why I Write Romance

A Guest Post by Christine Warner, author of Some Like it in Handcuffs

I actually was doing my daily blog round the other day and came across this question when another author was being interviewed:

Why do you write romance?  Why not another genre?

Such simple questions, but they stopped me in my reading tracks and I had to ponder the questions myself.

I started reading romance at a pretty young age.  My sister and the two neighbor girls came across a bag of Harlequin romances.  I don’t remember how, if they belonged to their mother, our mother, or we picked them up at a neighborhood garage sale, or maybe their grandmother or ours tossed ‘em our way.  That’s neither here nor there, the point is that summer we received a wrinkled, brown paper bag of books and we devoured them.  

We’d sit outside on the trampoline and read passages aloud to each other until the light faded from the sky.  We’d read them alone, on rainy days, before bed, in between swims in the pool.  That summer opened up a whole new world to me.  

I discovered The Happily Ever After and I was in LOVE!!!

I became an addict, a junkie to that tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach as I neared the end of the book.  All the conflict and challenges and questions answered.  I flipped the pages faster and faster until I finally understood why the hero did what he did, said what he said, or the moment I got why the heroine took the blame or refused to speak up to justify something she said or did.  The situations were so emotional.  I had tears in my eyes several times, a lump in my throat, anger burning in my chest for the injustice suffered, the misunderstandings and the near misses of discovering love.

Then I’d rip through the pages, dying to see how they resolved their dilemmas and would reach that pivotal scene.  In the final chapter all was explained and a sigh of relief escaped.  That gooey shiver of happiness as the hero and heroine came together, confessed their love and the world’s axis tilted to the correct angle.  

Sometimes that feeling stayed for hours, days, weeks…until another spine in a different book was broken and I got the chance to fall in love with a new adventure in romance.

I LOVE that happiness.  And I write romance because I want to share those feelings with readers.
*

Sunny Kennedy, the only female in a family of blue blood male detectives, is determined to prove testosterone isn’t the only qualification required to solve a cold case. Handcuffed while undercover then taken to the precinct by an attractive detective, her domineering family demands she work with Detective Judson Blackwolf, or she’s off the case.

Judson Blackwolf thinks women in law enforcement should work behind the scenes. The prospect of working with his Captain’s sexy daughter doesn’t thrill him. He only agrees in hopes of solving the murder of his one time mentor’s daughter. Once the case is over, he’s moving to Montana to heal his wounds from the loss of his last partner.

But when their investigation takes a dangerous turn, Sunny and Jud soon realize their feelings for each other cannot be denied.

Find the ebook at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and at the Wild Rose Press.

Learn more about Christine at:
Twitter
Facebook
http://christine-warner.com/